


Through The Veil

by InsanelyYours96



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: A Bit Sooner Than Expected, Canonical Character Death, Dark Harry, M/M, Sane Voldemort, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-24 16:01:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,808
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21800605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsanelyYours96/pseuds/InsanelyYours96
Summary: There was a flash of light, and Lupin’s hold on Harry went limp. Harry did not hesitate. He leapt towards the Veil, ignoring Dumbledore’s desperate cry of,“HARRY, STOP!”Consequences did not matter, not anymore. Harry had to get to Sirius… had to bring him back… he was not gone, hecouldn’tbe. He just needed to be pulled back through.Harry did not hesitate to thrust himself into the Veil.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Comments: 19
Kudos: 215





	Through The Veil

_“He can’t come back, Harry,” said Lupin, his voice breaking as he struggled to contain Harry. “He can’t come back, because he’s d—”_

_“HE—IS—NOT—DEAD!” roared Harry. “SIRIUS!”_

There was a flash of light, and Lupin’s hold on Harry went limp. Harry did not hesitate. He leapt towards the Veil, ignoring Dumbledore’s desperate cry of, “ _HARRY, STOP!”_

Consequences did not matter, not anymore. Harry had to get to Sirius… had to bring him back… he was not gone, he _couldn’t_ be. He just needed to be pulled back through. 

Harry did not hesitate to thrust himself into the Veil.

* * *

Bellatrix watched Potter run into the Veil. Her Lord would not be happy about this… but then, at least Potter was dead at last, no longer a pest, no longer anything her Lord needed to be distracted by. Now he could focus on taking control of Wizarding Britain. And perhaps, if she were lucky, he would have some time again for her.

Only something strange happened, something impossible. 

Potter fell through the other side of the Veil. 

It had to have been a near minute later, but he climbed to his feet, brushing off his robes as though nothing especially odd or extraordinary had just occurred. As if he had not cheated death for the _nth_ time.

She snapped out of her confusion in time to dodge a spell that Kingsley aimed at her and return it with an illegal cutting curse. She loved the ones that prevented clotting. He fell with a cry, blood pooling on the tiles below him, and she reveled in the sound even as her neck prickled. 

She turned to deflect one of Dumbledore’s spells, and then she was up the stairs, bursting through the door. The last thing she wanted was to face Dumbledore in battle… this night was already enough of a failure without adding that to it… 

Footsteps clamored after her, and she caught a glimpse of Potter giving chase as her lift’s doors slid shut. Perhaps she could lure him to the atrium. The Dark Lord would be pleased to get Potter alone… _the Veil_ could not kill the boy, but surely her Lord could easily dispose of him… 

Bellatrix exited the lift and rushed across the room diagonally. It would be best to assault Potter from an unexpected angle. 

After a moment of hesitation, she pressed her wand to the Dark Mark and thought, _Potter is joining me in the Ministry’s Atrium, My Lord, should you wish to make an appearance._ Not many knew of the Dark Mark’s ability to transfer information directly to the Dark Lord, but she was special. His protégé. Still, she would never use it lightly.

The second lift’s doors opened, and Potter’s eyes found her immediately, his wand at the ready. He twisted out of the way of her first spell. 

The brat was quicker than she expected. 

_And_ he had some bite. Instead of retreating or finding a place to hide and ambush her from, Potter attacked directly. Spells flew from his wand, one after another.

In the Department of Mysteries, before falling through the Veil, Potter had only used verbal magic. Now all of his spells were silent, flying too quickly for Bellatrix to recognize. Between dodging and casting shields she fired her own back, a thrill singing through her blood.

She hadn’t had such a challenge in ages, not since the last war. It reminded her of dueling Regulus, who was just as slight footed as Potter was proving himself to be. 

“ _Crucio,_ ” she incanted, but Potter only dodged again. He was relentless, wand moving in graceful arcs and sharp, cutting motions. She didn’t pay any mind to a spell that went wide, and that was her mistake. 

The ground behind her raised, twining up around her ankles. She hissed at the tight pressure, attempting to jerk out of the hold, and murmured an alarmed, “ _Protego_!” at the sight of a sickly yellow light coming at her.

It washed over the shield, and Bellatrix gritted her teeth against the force, unable to hold the incantation and free herself at the same time. Another spell splashed against the shield, and as it faded she dropped her wand, stabbing it at her bindings.

Only instead of relenting, the binds grew warm and traveled fleetly up her torso, forcing her still. She was trapped.

Bellatrix bared her teeth, eyes raising to meet Potter’s gaze. Green eyes cut into brown, and Bellatrix felt a chill go up her spine. There was something different about him. Something _wrong._ “Per the Last Will and Testament of Sirius Orion Black, I accept the title of Lord Black.”

There was a rush of magic, heavy and old, pushing into Potter, and Bellatrix laughed at his foolishness. Only he did not buckle under the power, did not fall to the ground screaming. 

It defied logic. Potter was Light, while Black family magic was notoriously Dark. He should be writhing in agony for his rash decision, not standing tall.

Potter’s lips twisted in a smile of pure spite. His wand snapped out, and a frisson of red energy hit Bellatrix’s face. The cut it made was thin, running along her cheekbone, but it was enough to make her bleed. Enough the make the next words that came out of his mouth binding. 

“As Lord Black, I, Harry James Potter, decree that Bellatrix Druella Lestrange née Black is no longer worthy of her name.” 

Bellatrix felt a jolt of horror. _No, no, no!_ How did a filthy half-blood know these words, this ritual? How did he know the contents of Sirius’ will when her cousin had not been dead five minutes?!

“For killing Sirius Orion Black, the rightful Lord of her house, I strip her of all Family Magics. I cast her out of the family, and strike her name from the Black line.”

The cut on Bellatrix’s cheek _sparked_ , and she cried out in agony as deep, amethyst energy poured from the wound. The pain was incandescent. _Molecular._ More powerful than her Lord’s cruciatus.

She welcomed the sweet release of unconsciousness. 

* * *

Voldemort appeared in the Ministry’s atrium silently. 

The air, he noted with some alarm, was heavy with ritual magic. Bellatrix was on the floor, unconscious, a fresh curse scar on her cheek that was steadily leaking Black Magic. And Harry Potter was standing above her, wand pointed at Voldemort’s chest.

“Hello Voldemort,” Potter says casually, eyes lingering on Bellatrix for a moment before rising to meet red. “Have a moment to chat?” 

Voldemort’s eyes narrowed. “And what could we possibly have to chat about, Harry Potter?” 

Potter rolled his eyes. “Oh I don’t know, the prophecy you’ve been implanting in my dreams for a year?” 

Voldemort stepped forward, eyes gleaming. “You have it?” 

“It’s broken,” Potter disagreed. The boy didn’t lower his wand, but he didn’t seem to have any intention to use it, either. Still, the implied threat grated. “Dumbledore told me the contents, but I’m curious if it matches up. I’m assuming you know the _reparandam_?”

Voldemort felt a spark of interest. Of course _he_ knew the spell, but it was surprising to find that Potter might. From what he had heard, the boy paid little attention to his studies, and that spell was not in the Hogwarts curriculum.

“Of course.”

“I propose that we complete the spell together and listen to the prophecy's contents. It’s about both of us, after all. We have a right to hear it.”

There was a sharp, calculating gleam in green eyes. But the deal worked in Voldemort’s favor just as much as Potter’s. 

“On three,” Voldemort agreed. “One, two, _reparandam.”_

 _“Reparandam_ ,” Harry said in time. Their spells clashed in the middle, just as Dumbledore appeared in front of the lift’s golden gates. Blue eyes took in the scene quickly and widened. 

“Stop,"Dumbledore commanded, but it was too late. Potter frowned, turning towards his mentor, and then his wand stabbed out. The _Expelliarmus_ hit true, and Dumbledore’s wand flew through the air, into Potter’s hand.

“My apologies, Headmaster,” Potter said coldly. “I would rather hear this directly, without interruption. _Silencio_.”

Voldemort felt stupefied. He had fought Dumbledore many times over the years, but never had he managed to disarm him. Of course, Dumbledore had been expecting his attacks—Harry Potter, he trusted wholly. And look where that trust had gotten him, thought Voldemort, delighted. This was the perfect opportunity to kill the old man----

But the prophecy begun, and Voldemort could just as well do it after.

_"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches... Born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies... and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not... united they will restore Magic and bring about terrific change… left apart both shall wither until Magic draws its last breath…”_

Well. That wasn’t what Voldemort had been expecting.

Potter cursed, sudden and violent, and spun to face Dumbledore. “ _This_ isn’t what you showed me! ‘And either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives. The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies.’ What is that? Just another manipulation so I would walk to my death like a pig to slaughter?!”

And Dumbledore went pale, confused and furious in turn. He apparently managed to wandlessly break Potter's silencing spell because he said, “Harry, what are you saying? I’ve never told you any other version of that prophecy, my boy. You weren’t even aware of the prophecy before tonight…”

Potter’s eyes were almost black with rage. The air around him was electric, magic pulsing from his slender form. “ _The Veil_ is a gateway,” the boy says. It is vague enough that Voldemort is at a loss, but Dumbledore looks as though he has understood something terrible. 

“Those notes—I burned them—it was too risky, too experimental—” 

Potter’s mouth curled. He looked torn between disgust and exhaustion. “Grindelwald kept his. It’s been a pleasure seeing you again, Dumbledore, but I’d rather you return to your grave. _Avada Kedavra.”_

Dumbledore jolted, as if to dodge, but the spell washed over his arm and he fell to the floor.

Albus Dumbledore died on June 18th, 1996, at the hand of the boy Voldemort had been attempting to kill for over fourteen years. The killing curse that felled him was cast with his own wand.

Potter sighed heavily and tucked said wand away. “The Aurors will arrive any minute,” he told Voldemort, and turned on his heel. 

His apparition was silent.

Voldemort blinked at the vacated space, eyed Dumbledore’s corpse for another moment, and leaned down to grip Bellatrix’s wrist. 

Then, he followed.

**Author's Note:**

> _The first two lines are pulled directly from Chapter Thirty-Five of Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix._
> 
> Please leave a comment on your way out. :)


End file.
